Bach: The French Suites by Devon E MattysGlenn Goulds fingers are my only friends these days
theyre the only ones wholl still come out and play
and what merriment I derive, what feeling
when I turn on the machine and set the disc to spinning
between the notes I hear it whirring in the darkness of my room
the lift of his fingers reaching out to me through the gloom
whir and hum and buzz echo off floor and ceiling!
in the rest between an end and a beginning
spin, disc, spin to incapacitate the world, whir and hum!
staccato notes and lifts and rests, index finger, middle finger, thumb!
round and round the disc will go
trills spilling out, bleeding and blending with the whir
the cover of it is unjustly worn, and prematurely old
down one side a gash, down the front a fold
and there hes beauty-striding to and fro
across the cover, away from the music, from me, towards an unseen her
and slowly now the music fades,
sleepy, its retiring for the day
and then he his fingers slow...
and, beauty-striding as on the cover, goes. 10/14/2003 Posted on 10/15/2003 Copyright © 2024 Devon E Mattys
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